


New Magic

by petitecanard



Series: New Magic [1]
Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce, PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Romance, all the characters because i love them all, very little kel and daja but they're cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitecanard/pseuds/petitecanard
Summary: Prince Liam is supposed to marry a Scanran princess. Sandrilene fa Toren wants to enjoy her simple life after fleeing Emelan. Once they meet, their plans unravel.
Relationships: Jonathan of Conté/Thayet jian Wilima, Keladry of Mindelan/Daja Kisubo, Liam of Conté/Sandrilene fa Toren
Series: New Magic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120844
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place a few years after the Trickster’s Queen series. For simplicity, I use our Gregorian calendar months.

_ I. January 465 H.E.  _

The day that Franzen took power in Emelan, Sandry, Daja, Briar, and Tris became Emelan’s most wanted, dead or alive. But no one could find them, even the most zealous hunters motivated by the extravagant reward money. They were already smuggled out on a ship, chasing the Trader legends Daja knew of lands across the sea.

* * *

_ II. March 465 H.E. _

The siblings bought a townhouse in Corus with one of Sandry’s necklaces. 

“Might as well put the jewels to some use,” Sandry said flippantly, but they all knew Sandry would never sell the sentimental jewels gifted to her by Uncle Vedris.

When they bought it, the townhouse’s peeling paint and leaky roof contrasted with the gleamingly neat houses around it in the busy neighborhood of central Corus. With Sandry’s tapestries and curtains and Briar’s plants it soon became charming. A few months after charming they started calling it home. 

At first Tris sold magic charms to different shops. Whenever she grumbled about how boring the work was Briar would buy her a book and one of them would take her to a high spot in Corus so she could watch the weather. Briar and Daja found work in the Palace gardens and smithy where at least their days were interesting and varied. After they grew tired of Tris’s complaining about her boredom they found her a job in the extensive Palace library. 

Sandry tried being a dressmaker. She quickly realized she didn’t take orders from other people well, be it the customer or the head of the shop, especially when she knew more about tailoring cloth than they did. Much better for Sandry was weaving fine tapestries in their townhouse to sell to traveling merchants in Corus.

* * *

_ III. July 465 H.E. _

On a sunny weekday when Briar was trying to sell his shaakans to people who couldn’t tell a shaakan from a bush, Briar saw a young boy of eight or nine clumsily pickpocket a man who was obviously a merchant from the tilt of his head and heavy decorations on his clothing. The merchant took off after the boy.

Despite vocal dismissals of his good-heartedness, Briar always helped those in need, especially if they were dirty street urchins with sticky fingers. Briar found the merchant punching the starving nine year old in a small alley. Briar drew out one of his daggers to break up the fight. The merchant took off, snarling that he was going to report Briar and the boy to the Provost’s Guard. Without a backward glance, the urchin ran away too. Briar, reminded of Evvy when he first met her, sighed deeply and followed him. 

Briar tracked the boy deep into Corus to the Dancing Dove. Once there he found him rapidly turning black and blue from the merchant’s fists. 

“Sweet Mila of the Grain,” Briar swore. “You’re a mess.” He fumbled in his pocket for the bruise balm. “Here," Briar, said, smearing it all over. "What's your name?” 

In answer, the boy jutted out his small chin. 

"Come on. You know I'm no trouble to you." 

Pouting, the boy relented. "Sal." 

“I'm Briar.”

“Funny name,” Sal grumbled, suspiciously accepting Briar’s help.

When Sal decided Briar was a friend, others in the Dancing Dove also claimed Briar’s friendship. He was beset with clamors for his medicinal help. Briar, who had been searching for ways to feel useful in Corus beyond puttering about in the Palace gardens and laughing at nobles, welcomed the chance to visit the Dove to help what injuries and ailments he could. Sandry, who could supply magical bandages and knew her way around Briar’s stock of medicines, also helped. 

That was how Briar and Sandry occupied their weekends.

That was how they met Liam of Conté.

* * *

_ IV. April 466 H.E. _

It was too early in the day for a drink, but Liam had been desperate to escape the palace rigamarole surrounding his upcoming birthday. No one from the palace would find him in the Dancing Dove, except perhaps his Uncle George who had first brought him there. And no one in the Dancing Dove would suspect friendly Liam Cooper of being the King’s son. The intent of the day was to relax. Instead Liam watched the strange pair in the far corner of the room who were surrounded by the common folk of Corus.

“Frank,” Liam said, bringing the bartender over. 

“You want your usual?” Frank asked.

Liam flicked his eyes over to the strangers. “Not yet. Who are they?”

Frank grunted. “The lad healed young Sal here one day and brought the lass back the next weekend. I don’t like mages, but they’re not too bad.”

Liam watched for a moment, noticing how the pretty woman directed the crowded people in the room with the light touch one would use to untangle string. She and the man moved from the most serious injuries to the lesser ones, diagnosing and healing with ointments, salves, tisanes, and bandages. When Liam healed he simply called his Gift and worked it into the injury or illness, but these two didn’t, although they clearly used magic because only magic made bruises disappear that quickly. 

The woman walked over to Liam. She was startlingly gorgeous up close, like sunshine. Liam was glad he had put off the ale, else he would be choking on it right now. Or maybe it would be better if he had a bottle to grip onto, instead of clenching his hands so he wouldn’t tug on the golden strands that were escaping her plaited light brown hair. 

“Do you know how to use your Gift?” She asked, an unfamiliar accent dancing through her words. 

“Hello,” Liam said, extending a hand so he could have an excuse to touch her. “I’m Liam.”

Liam was the third child and second son of the King and Queen of Tortall. He was third in line for the throne. His father was currently trying to marry him off to a Scanran princess. He was certainly not supposed to frequent the Dancing Dove in disguise, and he was certainly not supposed to drown in the blue eyes of the woman across from him. 

“And I’m rude,” the woman replied, her abashed smile unfairly perfect. She put her hand in Liam’s and shook it firmly. Liam noted intriguing callouses. “I’m Sandry fa Toren. My brother Briar and I are swamped with people looking for healers. Would you mind helping us? We noticed you’re a mage.”

Liam knew a bit of healing magic, forced on him by his father, Aunt Alanna, and his former knight-master, but he would gladly become a full-time Healer if it meant more time with Sandry fa Toren. “Where are you from, Sandry?”

“A few streets away.”

“And a few streets away, is that where they teach you how to see magic?”

“Yes. Do you know how to heal?”

“Enough that I won’t hurt anyone further,” Liam said honestly.

Sandry pursed her lips, looking doubtful. “Maybe I should leave you to the bar.” She walked away. 

Abandoning all grace, Liam leapt after her. “Sandry!” 

Frustrated and adorable, Sandry turned around, hands on hips.

“If I help you, will you go to dinner with me?” Liam offered.

Sandry wrinkled her little nose. “Seriously?”

Liam felt adrift, glad no one in the Dancing Dove knew him. Sandry’s gaze was rightly cutting. Liam could be selfish at times, but it was a new low to gamble poor people’s health on a chance with a girl, no matter how beautiful she was. “You’re right. That was crass. I’m actually a decent Healer when pretty girls aren’t distracting me.”

Sandry frowned. Liam held out his hands, trying to buy himself more time to fix this. “I’ll behave myself! Or else my Ma will disown me for being disrespectful.”

Finally Sandry’s expression lightened and Liam could breathe again. He hadn’t completely fucked this up. 

“We’ll see how you do,” Sandry said sternly.

* * *

_ V. April 466 H.E _

The next weekend Liam skipped a sparring session with his brother Jasson to return to the Dancing Dove. His guilt at missing time with his brother disappeared when he spied Sandry bandaging a woman’s arm.

“Thank Mithros you’re here,” Liam told her, daring to put his lips close to her ear. “Frank is giving me dirty looks for not buying anything at the bar. I need your protection.”

Forget the finest feasts his father had to offer, Liam could live for days sustained only by Sandry’s small giggle. “Frank likes me. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“I’m in your debt, my lady.”

Sandy finished wrapping the woman’s arm. She spent a few minutes giving care instructions before standing up and facing Liam. He wanted to kiss her. Sandry, putting a pile of new bandages in his arms, clearly didn’t share the sentiment. 

“Will you help me look over the people with chest infections?” She asked. “I’m pretty useless against those.” 

Sandry brought Liam to a group of people coughing outrageously. Liam hoped Aunt Alanna would be proud of the healing he did under Sandry and Briar’s supervision that day. It was enough magical exertion that by the time the Dancing Dove was empty of people needing help, Liam had trouble standing because of his resulting nausea.

“Do you live near here?” Sandry asked, brow creased with concern as Liam put his head on one of the tables. Liam was glad for her worry, especially after her preceding rant about the dangers of over-extending his Gift. 

“No,” Liam groaned. The Palace was a far walk from the Dancing Dove. Worse, if the guards saw him stumbling through the gates they would notify his father. 

“You’ll be fine with a good meal,” Sandry said stoutly. 

From the corner of his eye, Liam watched Sandry exchange a glance with Briar. They seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes, the conversation only ending when Briar hauled Liam out of his seat.

“You’re coming with us, laddybuck.”

Liam fell against Briar’s side. “If you wanted to kidnap me you could have drugged my drink.”

Sandry grimaced as she gathered up their healing supplies. “Nothing so exciting, Liam. We’re feeding you dinner.”

“And our sister will repeat Sandry’s lecture about going over your magical limits,” Briar said.

Liam attempted to stand up without leaning on Briar. He failed. “I was trying to impress a pretty girl.”

“Of all idiotic things to do,” Sandry snapped. 

“Damn,” Liam said. “I’ll have to try again next week. At least you’re taking me to dinner.”

Briar chuckled, which appeased Liam’s self-confidence even if Sandry still looked stubbornly unamused. “You’re already meeting the family, Liam. Moving fast, aren’t you?”

Sandry walked towards the door. “Shut up, Briar.”

Briar supported Liam as they walked the short distance to the townhouse. Once they entered the eclectically decorated home, they faced a young woman with hard eyes, intricately braided hair, and a long knife. 

“You’re not kidnapping me, right?” Liam asked again, warily eyeing the knife.

“I’m cooking dinner. We’re not in the habit of kidnapping overwrought mages,” the redhead snapped.

“Good,” Liam extended his free hand, “I’m Liam Cooper.”

The woman shook Liam’s hand, tugging him into their home. “Trisana Chandler. Tris.”

Tris guided Liam in, calling over her shoulder, “I thought you were healing people, not making them faint.”

“We’re multi-talented, Coppercurls,” Briar said. 

Tris deposited Briar in a chair at their dinner table. Minutes later a different tall woman with long braids placed a cup of tea in front of him. She introduced herself as Daja Kisubo. “Drink up,” she ordered. “It’s Briar’s tea blend. It’ll make you feel better.”

Liam sat up straighter in his chair, ignoring his pounding headache. His father would kill Liam if he saw him so vulnerable in a relative stranger’s home. “What do you all do when you’re not saving the poor of Corus at the Dove?”

Daja settled into the chair across from him. “Tris, Briar, and I work in the Palace.”

“Damn,” Liam said, worried. He wondered how long he had until one of Sandry’s siblings noticed him in the palace. Luckily Liam was only at the Palace for brief stints of time. Whenever an extra man was needed, Liam rode out with the King’s Own or Queen’s Riders. Those responsibilities limited the time Sandry’s siblings could find Liam floundering in the Palace and realize who he was. 

“It’s good work,” Daja said. “What do you do, besides faint onto stranger’s doorsteps?”

“That’s it,” Liam lied solemnly. “Professional fainting is a tiring career choice.” 

The other guest at dinner was the sociable glass dragon who nested in Liam’s hair. Tris explained Chime had been made in a magical accident, leading Liam to discover that Daja and Tris were also mages.

Liam was sure that these four were the most interesting people in Tortall. In comparison, all Liam did was entertain diplomats and ride around the countryside looking for spidrens to stab. Liam hoped that if he couldn’t make Sandry fall deeply in love with him at least he was finding friends who didn’t treat him like a prince.

* * *

_ VI. July 466 H.E. _

Lianne of Conté knew her brother well enough to notice that Liam hadn’t spent a single weekend at the Palace in months. Even before he had travelled away from Corus with the King’s Own, he had been spending more time away from the Palace. Usually when Liam went on escapades he would tell Lianne about them, if only to make Lianne annoyed and envious. Now Liam was distracted and evasive. The only solution, Lianne had decided, was to ambush Liam outside his chambers early in the morning. 

“I don’t know where you’e going, but I’m coming with you,” Lianne announced, noting Liam’s plainclothes. Lianne was glad she had also worn one of her simpler dresses.

“And good morning to you,” Liam grumbled. “You should go back to bed.”

Lianne was wide awake. If anything, Liam was the one who usually slept in. “No. You’ve been sneaking off a lot. I want to know why.” 

“I’m going to the Dancing Dove,” Liam confided after losing a staring contest with Lianne. “They don’t know I’m the prince, so keep your big mouth shut.”

Lianne was surprised. Why would Liam go to the Dancing Dove at sunrise? “Tell me why. I’m good at keeping secrets.” 

“And you’ll keep this one,” Liam said evenly. “Because I know that you’re sneaking around with Alan of Pirate’s Swoop.”

“You’re the worst,” Lianne retorted. She had thought no one else knew about her and Alan. 

After Liam’s accusation Lianne was disgruntled for the rest of the long walk to the Dancing Dove. Liam’s explanation that he went to the Dancing Dove to help two friends heal people in the Lower City confused Lianne further. Liam had always fallen asleep during the lessons on healing that Lianne had loved as a child.

When they arrived at the Dove masses of people were fitting into the bar. Lianne realized they were all waiting for their chance with the free healers. Liam led Lianne to a back corner, nodding at a few people who recognized him. In the corner Liam sat down beside two people who were sorting through bandages and medicines. The man was joking easily with the people crowding around him. He enthusiastically greeted Liam. 

Lianne inspected the woman Liam sat down next to. She was wearing a simple dress that was perfectly tailored. The style of the dress was certainly not Tortallan, but it suited the woman. Like her clothing, the woman was self-assured and confident. Lianne hoped she was also sensible enough to stay away from Liam, who was pathetically vying for her attention. 

Lianne’s dread increased when the woman coaxed out a smile for Liam, asking “where have you been?”

“I had to leave Corus for a bit,” Liam said. “Have you been distraught without me?”

“Yes,” the woman teased. “I’ve been crying myself to sleep everyday.”

Liam squeezed her hand. “That won’t do.” 

Looking at Lianne, the woman nudged Liam. “Introduce us, Liam.”

“She’s my sister,” Liam said, choosing to annoy Lianne. “Ignore her.” 

Lianne made a face at Liam. 

“Does your sister have a name?” The man asked. 

“No,” Liam said. “It’s very sad. Our parents forgot to name her.”

The woman rolled her eyes. She stood up and smiled at Lianne. “I’m Sandry fa Toren. That’s my brother, Briar Moss. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Lianne shook Sandry’s hand. “I’m Lianne.”

Sandry and Briar teased Liam when Lianne told them she was a better healer than Liam. Lianne asked Sandry to show her what to do, so that Lianne could learn more about this woman who Liam was sneaking out of the Palace for. 

Sandry commanded the room of the Dancing Dove as well as Uncle Raoul or Aunt Buri commanded soldiers. She put scared, hurting people at ease better than more intimidating people like Lianne’s parents could. No wonder Liam couldn’t stop looking and talking to Sandry when he was supposed to be healing broken limbs.

Lianne always suspected Liam had fooled around with a noblewoman or two and a few of the male and female squires Liam had trained with, but being a prince and a knight had stopped Liam from dedicating himself to one person. Lianne feared Liam liked Sandry enough to abandon the common sense that kept him from making promises he couldn’t keep. Worse, Lianne suspected Sandry liked Liam as much as Liam liked her. She asked Lianne too many questions about Liam. Lianne also learned how deeply intwined Liam was with Sandry and her siblings when they enjoyed a delicious dinner at their townhouse.

“You’re a fool,” Lianne hissed, as they climbed the last part of the hill to the Palace. “Dad is going to kill me for falling in love with Alan, but at least Alan is a noble knight and the son of the King’s Champion. And I’m not supposed to marry a Scanran! Sandry is wonderful, but anything with her is going to end tragically!”

Lianne hoped she could spare her irrepressible brother from heart-break with her harsh words.

“Do you think she likes me?” Liam asked morosely.

Lianne sent him a pitying look. “Yes, unfortunately,” she bit out. “That’s why you need to stay away from her.”

“I don’t want to marry a Scanran princess,” Liam said. “I think I should elope with Sandry.”

Lianne threw her hands into the air. “I hope Sandry has more sense than you! Do yourself a favor, and only think about Scanran princesses.”

“I’ll try.” 

Three seconds later Liam said, “Sandry and I work though!”

Two seconds after that: “You really think she likes me?”


	2. Chapter 2

_ V_ _III. August 466 H.E. _

Sandry felt Liam’s presence behind her seconds before he murmured, “Good morning, Sandry.” It was a voice that Sandry wanted to sink into and bask in, like warm sunshine in the spring.

It was hardly the most flirtatious comment Liam had made to Sandry, but nevertheless her breath caught. Her hands were busy cleaning a nose wound with Briar’s anti-septic so she didn’t have to turn around and face Liam’s unfairly friendly and handsome face. 

Sandry nervously bit her lip. She was at the Dancing Dove without Briar, who was spending the day in the Palace gardens dealing with a mite infestation. Sandry was alone with Liam, who was accountably dangerous to Sandry’s nerves. Since being lied to, hurt, and kidnapped, by Fin and Shan in Namorn, Sandry had decided that she could not trust handsome, smooth-talking men. Daja and Briar told her she was an idiot. Even Tris liked Liam. 

After finishing patching up the broken nose, Sandry turned to view Liam, who was standing by the low stool she was currently sitting on. 

“Is Briar here?” Liam asked, offering a firm hand so Sandry could pull herself up. The action pushed them close together.

“No,” Sandry said, staring resolutely at Liam’s shirt. “He’s at the Palace today.”

Liam’s blue eyes lit up. “It’s just us.”

It was hardly just them. The Dancing Dove was bursting with people looking for medical care, but Sandry had to admit that Liam’s special attention to Sandry always made her feel intimately alone with him.

Liam whispered in Sandry’s ear words so unromantic that the rush it gave her was truly inconceivable. “The woman across the room has a nasty infection we should look at.”

The crush of people in the Dancing Dove was such that Liam put his hand out and Sandry gladly held it so they could make their way through the crowd. 

“Lunch?” Liam asked later, after Sandry finished giving some of Briar’s medicines to a woman with a sick child. “Come on,” he said, practically lifting her from the seat. “You need to eat.”

Sandry pouted. 

“You won’t be looking that sad when I bring you to the Yamani restaurant down the street,” Liam promised.

“Do they have dumplings?” Sandry asked, excitement leaking into her voice.

Liam grinned at her. “Would I bring you to a place without dumplings?”

Lunch was like the rest of Sandry’s interactions with Liam: distressingly wonderful. Liam made Sandry laugh. All their conversations were like inside jokes between them.

After lunch not even the sight of new wounds and lung infections brought down Sandry’s buoyant, Liam induced mood. Only the sight of a man who looked oddly like Pershan fer Roth, one of the men who had tried to kidnap Sandry in Namorn, reminded Sandry that she was not ready for a relationship.

* * *

_ IX. August 466 H.E. _

The next weekend Briar was still held up in the Palace because of the worsening mite infestation. 

“Briar can help the plants and see where they’re hurting, but he can’t directly fight the mites,” Sandry explained to Liam when he met her at the Dancing Dove in the morning. “Briar also thinks his coworkers are imbeciles.”

Liam laughed. “Did he say that?”

“No, Briar was much less polite,” Sandry confided. 

Liam’s constant touches pushed Sandry into insanity, but otherwise their time at the Dancing Dove passed smoothly. Sandry was proud that she went the day without either running away from Liam’s overwhelming presence or, contrastly, pushing him into a closet to explore the increasing tension between them. 

Sandry and Liam were chatting lightly when they exited the Dancing Dove as the regular patrons of the bar entered for the evening, so Sandry didn’t notice the noise until they stepped right into a brawl at the steps of the Dancing Dove.

Liam swore heavily, familiar blue light coating his hands. In the confusion Sandry grasped at Liam’s shirt as a random elbow pushed her into the muddy street. 

Sandry reached internally for her magic while her hands found the dagger that she always hid in her dress. She brandished her dagger while laying on the ground, preparing to magically tie the brawling men's boots together so they would trip over each other. 

Liam was quicker. He magically pushed the brawlers into a nearby alley where the fight broke up and they dispersed. It was already over when Sandry tried to stand up.

Liam crouched over Sandry, helping her up "You're alright?” His hands tenderly cradled Sandry’s face. “Does anything hurt?”

“I’m fine," Sandry said, taking deep breaths to calm the adrenaline surging through her. She pressed closer to Liam’s body, seeking comfort. He was warm and strong and safe. “Usually I don't have to dodge elbows on my walk home." 

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Liam asked. His genuine concern tore down Sandry’s already weak defenses against him. “We shouldn’t have left so late.”

“It’s fine. I’m alright.” Sandry moved to put her knife back.

Liam nodded at the dagger in Sandry’s hand. “You know how to use that?”

“Yes.” Sandry neatly hid the knife in her waistband. 

“Do you have any idea,” Liam said, once again flirtatious. “How attractive that is?”

“Liam,” Sandry breathed out, not knowing if she meant it as a warning or an invitation. All she knew was the atmosphere of the dark street had shifted immensely. Sandry almost wished the brawling men would come back and distract Liam so she would have a chance to catch her breath.

Sandry trembled when Liam touched her jaw, gently tipping her chin up. 

“You like me.” The statement was so confident that Sandry could only nod mutely in agreement.

Liam’s frustration showed in his clenched jaw and tense posture, at odds with his gentle touch. “Why do you keep me at arm’s length? You’re smart and bossy and beautiful, Sandry. I just want a chance with you.”

“I’ve had,” Sandry breathed out, her emotions overwhelming. “I don’t, ” Sandry bit her lip and grasped at sounding coherent, “I’ve been taken advantage of before.”

Liam released his grip and stepped away from her. He ran his hand through his tousled black hair, looking as bereft as Sandry felt.

“Mithros, I’m sorry. I feel like a cad.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Sandry said. To hide her nervousness Sandry twisted her hands in her skirts. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing adequate came to mind, so they continued standing in thick silence. 

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met—”

“No I’m not,” Sandry interrupted. “I’m secretive and pushy and—”

“Sandry,” Liam reiterated. “You are incredible and I want to know every secretive and pushy part of you.”

“Right,” Sandry said eloquently. How dare Liam continue to say things that made Sandry want to throw herself at him. “I barely know you.”

“Yes you do, Sandry. You’ve known me for months. You know what makes me laugh and I know that you love Yamani dumplings. What else do we need?”

“More than that, I think.” 

“Mithros,” Liam swore. “This isn’t going well. I’ll see you at the Dove next weekend, Sandry.” 

He walked away.

Sandry watched him go, chewing on her lip, certain she had made a mistake. Another week was hardly going to provide Sandry with more courage. A week would only give her siblings more time to tell Sandry she was an idiot.

“Liam,” Sandry yelled, running after him. “Liam!”

It would have been more romantic if Liam had turned around and Sandry jumped into his arms. Instead she thumped into his back and wrapped her arms around him as if holding on for her life. 

“What would you do if I said I can’t stop thinking about you either?” She said into his shirt. 

Liam turned around, gathering her in his arms. “What do you want me to do?” Liam again tipped her chin up so Sandry was forced to look at him. “What do you want, Sandry?”

“You,” Sandry affirmed. “I want you. But I need to take it slow.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” Sandry said, impatience returning some of her usual bravado. “I ran across the muddy street to tell you so!”

Sandry pushed herself up on her toes to slant her lips against Liam’s. Sandry thought she knew what weak knees were, as she suffered from it quite a lot around Liam, but this new bonelessness was something else altogether. 

* * *

_ X. August to December 466 H.E. _

Sandry’s siblings reacted well when they started dating. 

Sandry and Liam sat across from Briar as he carefully tested the sharpness of a knife he drew out of his boot. “What ever did happen to the last man who hurt Sandry?” he asked conversationally.

“Stop that!” Sandry said, glaring. “You already know Liam! I wanted a peaceful dinner.”

“Besides, revenge is more effective if the victim doesn’t have warning,” Tris said. 

“I like Liam because he knows Sandry is the most dangerous of us,” Daja said.

Sandry looked exceptionally pleased. “Good, because he’s not going anywhere.”

In the following months of dating Sandry Liam learned Sandry was afraid of the dark, but brave and strong against everything else. Sandry liked to lay in bed with Liam at night and watch him play with the blue light of his Gift.

When Sandry jumped into Liam’s arms after he had been away for a month and pressed against him in a heated embrace, Liam decided he should give up his official, princely life in favor of figuring out every intriguing layer of Sandrilene fa Toren.

Liam often returned to Corus after difficult missions. Sandry was the only comfort he seeked. Sandry understood what Liam was processing when he buckled under the pain of killing people or the guilt of arriving too late to a devastated village.

“I first killed someone when I was fifteen,” Liam whispered. “I vomited for hours after.”

“That is too young,” Sandry said, her hands stroking Liam’s hair as he lay his head in her lap. “I was about that age too.”

Liam drew one of Sandry’s hands to his mouth and kissed it. Sandry quietly told him about killing people to save her student Pasco. 

“Briar and Daja and Tris understand too,” she added. “You can always talk to them.” 

Liam knew he was lucky to have Sandry, and lucky to have found friends with her siblings as well.

* * *

_ XI. January 467 H.E. _

Daja opened the front door in time for Liam to hear Sandry say, in the shrillest voice he had yet heard from her, “Briar, If you keep finding trouble I’ll stake you out with the frozen vegetables where you belong!” Her distinctive stomps on the floor above him accentuated Sandry’s frustration.

“Good!” Briar yelled. “Then I won’t have to deal with you sticking your neb into anything that doesn’t involve you!” 

“Hello, Daja,” Liam said pleasantly. “What are they fighting about?”

Daja hummed thoughtfully. “They’ve been at it all day. Briar keeps getting into bar fights and Sandry’s worried.”

“Is Briar in any danger?” asked Liam, unsure why Sandry was worried about someone who could clearly take care of himself. 

“Only from us.” Daja led him into their sitting room, where Tris was reading.

“We can’t have him getting too prideful,” Tris commented, not looking up.

Briar clattered down the stairs. “I can hear you,” he hollered. “And I’m usually in fights for a good reason. You girls worry too much.”

Sandry came down next. “I’m withholding bandages until you find your brain, you simpleton boy.” She turned to Liam and kissed his cheek. “Liam, save my from this household.”

“Too late for that, love. Briar invited me for dinner so you have no say in the matter.”

“Oh, _Briar,_ invited you? Do I have anything to worry about?”

“Yes,” Briar said strongly. “Liam said he knows some knife and pick-pocketing tricks so I thought we could compare what we know.”

“Is that the only thing you’ll be comparing?” Daja asked archly. 

“Daja you could join us. You have a pretty big staff there yourself,” Liam gestured at Daja’s tall Trader staff that she was leaning on. One day Liam wanted to introduce Daja to the host of women at the Court, including his mother, who regularly beat each other up with large sticks for fun.

Sandry hid her laughter in Liam’s chest. 

“No, no,” Briar said. “Daja will beat us both into the dust if you tempt her.”

“I’ll be in the workroom once you decide not run away with Briar,” Sandry said through her laughter, pushing Liam towards Briar. 

Liam couldn’t resist tasting Sandry’s smile. Ignoring the requisite groans from her siblings, he stole a quick kiss from her.“I would never. And I do actually want to talk to you about something.”

Sandry caught Liam’s arm. “About what? Tell me.”

Grimacing, Briar rolled his eyes. “Mate, go with her or else she’ll be yelling in my head for hours.”

“You’re sure?” Liam asked, secretly grateful.

Impatient as ever, Sandry tugged Liam into her room. “What do you want to talk about?”

On Sandry’s bed, Liam first distracted her with dozens of light kisses. Sandry tugged his hair so he looked into her bright eyes. “This is what you wanted to talk about?”

Liam grinned. “I was thinking we should elope.”

Sandry laughed. “That is the best marriage offer I’ve yet received.”

“What other marriage offers? Am I competing with Frank?”

“The bartender at the Dancing Dove? He’s ancient!”

“He would probably give his wife free drinks,” Liam grumbled. “That’s more than I have to offer.” 

All Liam had to offer a wife was an overbearing father-in-law, endless headaches, and ever-present royal guilt. 

Sandry pushed Liam off her chest so she could lie on her side next to him, propping her head with one hand. Liam turned his head to admire the curve of Sandry’s waist. 

Sandry’s light blush told Liam she knew how easily distracted Liam was, but she returned them to his original question. “Why do you want to elope?”

“I think I should tie you down before you realize you’re too good for me,” Liam said honestly. 

Sandry poked him. “Try again.”

Liam flopped around to hide his face in Sandry’s unwrinkable pillow. He mumbled into the soft fabric, “My Dad wants me to marry someone else.”

That morning Liam’s father, King Jon, had brought Liam into his royal office and told Liam that they were close to finding a Scanran princess for Liam to marry. His father had been deciding which Scanran warlord would offer the best marriage agreement for years now, making Liam feel like a trapped animal. Liam had stormed out of the office and formed the brilliant plan that he couldn’t marry another princess if he was married to Sandry.

Sandry sighed deeply. “Does your family know about us, Liam?”

“No,” Liam said morosely. “They’re annoying and I want you for myself.”

Liam knew he was mucking everything up when it came to both Sandry and his duties as prince. His parents didn’t know about Sandry, because Liam was supposed to dutifully commit himself to a random Scanran woman they hadn’t even chosen yet.

“Don’t make me your dirty secret, Liam.” Sandry's small, tremulous voice broke Liam’s heart into pieces. He sat up on the bed, pulling her into his chest.

“I don’t want my parents to ruin everything. We won’t elope, and I’ll tell them about you.” The lie spilled out of Liam on the wings of goodwill. 

“Will you really tell them?” Sandry asked.

“I don’t know,” Liam said. To distract them both from Liam’s cowardice, Liam said, “Who else has proposed to you Sandry? I need to know who to fight off.”

“It was years ago, when we were across the sea.” Sandry’s head was still resting on Liam’s chest, her fingers tracing designs in Liam’s shirt. “We were visiting a country called Namorn, where it was legal to kidnap women and force them into marriage.”

Liam felt sick. He tightened his hold on Sandry. “Tell me you’re exaggerating.”

“It was horrible. I told Berenene it was an awful law, but she said that life in Namorn demanded strong women. She defended the law even after I was kidnapped in her own palace!”

“Was Berenene the lady of the lands you lived on?” Liam asked, hungry for more information on Sandry’s past life.

Sandry took a deep breath, her small hands gripping Liam’s shirt. “Somewhat. She was my cousin, the Empress of Namorn.”

Liam opened his mouth, unsure which of the multitude of his sudden questions was going to tumble out, but Sandry kept talking, as if eager to say everything at once. “I was an heiress and a Countess in Namorn. That’s why three different men tried to kidnap me. Only one kidnapping was frightening, but that’s why I don’t want to elope. My wedding will be a happy celebration with everyone I love, not a sneaky, hidden contract in the middle of the night.”

Liam set aside his burning questions to say, “Sandry, you are the strongest person I know.”

“No, I’m not,” she argued. “There are women in Namorn stuck with horrible husbands, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I ran away.”

“Sandry, look at me. We can’t fix everything. It’s not your fault.”

Sandry kissed him. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

Liam suspected Sandry wouldn’t say that if she knew the truth about Liam’s life. He asked, “Is Namorn why you came to Tortall?”

“In a way,” Sandry said. “We first returned to Summersea, where we lived. But later Berenene forced me to flee.”

Liam frowned. “How?”

“I was supposed to become the Duchess of Emelan,” Sandry explained softly. “And I did become the Duchess after Uncle Vedris died, but only for a few weeks. Berenene arranged a coup with my cousin to make him the Duke. She hated me after Namorn because we dared to defy her.”

“That’s why Briar calls you Duchess,” Liam exclaimed. “I thought it was because you act pompous sometimes!”

Sandry blushed adorably. “It’s definitely not because of how I act.”

Liam laughed. “Now I know why you’re so bossy.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Sandry said. “It’s in the past. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

Being a lying fraud made Liam sick. Sandry had been afraid to tell him she had been a duchess because he had duped her into thinking he was a random soldier in the King’s army. This would be the perfect time to confess Liam’s own secrets, but anxiety muzzled him. Even before Sandry had told Liam exactly why they came to Tortall, she had stressed how much she enjoyed the privacy of Corus. Sandry had fled Emelan to escape the complications of nobility, not to be thrown back into it because she met a prince in the Dancing Dove. 

“It doesn’t change anything,” Liam agreed, sad because Sandry was right.

* * *

_ XII. April 467 H.E. _

Roald woke up Liam on his twenty-second birthday.

“Roald?” Liam asked groggily, surprised because Roald was stationed at a fort in northern Tortall. Moments later he tackled him. Liam always loved ruffling his perpetually solemn brother. “Roald! What are you doing here? Please tell me you’re finally shirking your duty.”

“I’m not shirking. It’s your birthday,” Roald said, readjusting his wrinkled shirt. “We’ve been planning a present for you.” 

Liam thought sleeping in late would have been a fine birthday present, but he good-naturedly allowed Roald to wrestle him out of bed. Thayet, Jon, Jasson, and Vania met him in the hall with a wide smiles and a hugs.

Liam should have stopped and gone back to bed when Roald said, “Kel introduced me to a new smith at the forge, who has the most fantastic work of anyone I’ve seen,” but Liam was too distracted by Jasson and Vania’s chattering excitement to think of Daja.

When Liam stepped into the hot forge his family continued talking over each other in an undignified way, the commotion making love rise in Liam's heart. He rarely saw his family like this. Liam reached over to tug on Vania’s braids, receiving an elbow in the ribs from her and a derisive snort from Jasson. 

Thayet shushed them all, but she too was smiling with excitement. “Buri, we’re ready,” she called out.

From a shadowed corner of the forge Aunt Buri and Daja walked out, holding a shield between them. Daja, at the sight of Liam, looked uncharacteristically thunderous. 

Thayet started speaking. Liam forced himself to listen to his mother’s melodic, comforting voice to distract him from his panic. 

In K’mir, Thayet said, “After the shield we gave you at your knighting was ruined in that raid, Kally thought you should have a new shield in a combined Tortallan and K'mir style. Buri helped Mistress Kisubo do a fantastic job.”

Out of their siblings, Liam and Kally had been the most interested in their K'mir heritage. Liam proudly spoke the best K'mir of his siblings, a skill picked up from his childhood of following Thayet and Aunt Buri around. 

Vania mistook Liam’s shock from seeing Daja as happiness with the shield. She hugged him, exclaiming joyfully. The rest of Liam’s family followed suit. 

“I love it,” Liam said truthfully. The glimmering shield was magnificent. 

Liam stepped out of his family’s embrace to take the shield from Daja.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he gingerly held her work.

“Sandry is going to be so upset,” Daja hissed, avoiding his gaze. “ _I_ am so upset.”

Liam opened his mouth to say something more, but Jasson and Vania tugged him back into conversation with his family. While Liam thanked his parents, Daja left the forge. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ XIII. April 467 H.E.  _

When Liam arrived at the townhouse two hours later, Sandry blocked the door with a mockingly low curtsy.

She sneered, “Your Highness.”

“Stop!” Liam hated the sight of Sandry in a curtsy. He picked her up and brought her to couch. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated once he set her down, clinging to her hands. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You lied to me. _For so long._ ”

“Yes,” Liam admitted quietly.

“How could you?”

Liam’s answer was lame and truthful. “It was easier than telling you.”

Sandry wrinkled her nose as if she were looking at filth dredged from the river. 

“I’m so foolish,” she said, moving from the couch to pace the floor. ““Did you lie so you could split your time between here and, I don’t know, random noblewomen at court?”

“No!” Aghast, Liam catapulted from his seat to chase after Sandry. “No. I would never.” Liam told himself that these hurtful accusations were no more than he deserved. “Sandry,” he finally caught her hand, “you know I’ve never been in a real relationship before you. That’s probably why I’m so horrible at all this.” 

“This isn’t a practice relationship until your parents find you someone they approve of. It’s real to me.” 

“Sandry, I know it’s real. It’s real enough for me to fall in love with you!”

Sandry shoved Liam away from her. “You don’t lie to the person you love! That’s why I told you about my past.”

Liam clung onto the admission of love amidst the waves of hurt emanating from Sandry. “You love me.”

Sandry brushed a tear from her cheek. “I didn’t come to Tortall so that men would keep lying to me.”

Liam believed he was the worst person in Tortall, but he still needed to ask, “Do you love me?”

Sandry broke Liam’s heart. “I don’t know. You lied to me,” she repeated, voice breaking.

“I’m so sorry, Sandry,” Liam said, pleading. “How can I fix this?” 

“Wait here.” Sandry stomped up the stairs. She reappeared with two heavy packages. 

“Your birthday presents,” she explained. She dropped them on the floor and gestured at the exit. “Please leave now.” 

“Sandry.”

“I need time,” Sandry said, voice hard and steady despite the tears in her eyes. “Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy your presents. But I need time to think and calm down, or else I’ll start acting as horribly as you have been acting.”

Liam decided this was the worst birthday yet.

* * *

_ XIV. April 467 H.E. _

Later that night, Liam tortured himself by imagining the birthday celebration Sandry had been planning for tomorrow. Tris, Briar, and Daja had told Liam they were planning a birthday dinner. Sandry had been teaching him Emelanese dances so they could properly celebrate. In return Liam had promised to ask Aunt Buri for K’miri desserts. Now that Liam had been exposed as a lying prick, he was sure the celebration was called off. Full of nostalgia for events that wouldn’t happen, Liam miserably unwrapped the gifts Sandry had given him. 

In the smaller package there were carefully stitched and embroidered gloves and a long cape designed to be worn over armor. A note tucked into the glove read in Sandry’s elegant handwriting, _The gloves and the cape are lightweight, waterproof, and will regulate your body heat. You deserve to be the best-dressed man in the King’s Army. Love, Sandry._

Liam crumpled the note.

The next gift was more heart-wrenching than the first. Liam unrolled the most complexly gorgeous tapestry he had ever seen. The note pinned in the corner said, _Because you’re always asking about Summersea. Briar, Daja, and Tris also helped. Love, Sandry._

Liam guessed both notes were written before Sandry discovered he was the prince. 

Liam held the two notes in his fist as he inspected the detailed tapestry. It was the view of a bustling city, which Liam assumed was Summersea. In the foreground a woman who looked like Sandry was riding a horse, looking behind her to beckon the viewer to follow her down the path to the city gates. To the left a beautiful harbor full of boats stretched towards the city, which made up the background of the tapestry. Unfamiliar embroidered flowers and vines formed its border. Liam bent closer to inspect silver thread highlighting waves in the harbor. He touched the tapestry and smelt a sea breeze as a vibrant scene of Sandry and her siblings on a small boat in the harbor took over his senses.

“Mithros!” Liam jerked away. 

After a moment Liam touched the tapestry again, his fingertips gently landing on a part of the city. He was transported to a busy market street, in the corner of his eye Sandry was buying cloth from a street vendor.

Another part of the tapestry brought Liam onto a roof with Sandry and Daja, another to her weaving with a woman she called Lark. Part of the castle introduced Liam to Great-Uncle Vedris, a different part to Sandry running through the halls chasing after a dog named Little Bear. 

Liam was astounded. Sandry had woven her memories into the tapestry. He wondered if Tris and Daja had helped infuse the memories with clearer sound, smell, and temperature. Briar could have helped with the dyes and flowers around the border. 

Liam had grown up surrounded by mages such as Daine and Numair. There was a dragon named Kitten in the palace. His father held the Dominion Jewel. This was the most magnificent piece of magic Liam had ever seen. Numair would cry in wonder over the tapestry. 

More importantly, it was an incredibly intimate and personalized gift. Liam’s knees buckled under the weight of how terribly he had acted. He had lied for a year to the people who had dedicated hours to creating this gift.

Liam needed to fix this. He decided to go to the smartest person he knew.

Liam couldn’t meet with his mother, Thayet, until early the next morning after a night of horrible sleeping. At first light Liam found Thayet during her daily glaive practice.

“Ma, I need your help,” Liam said simply. 

Thayet didn’t pause her intricate practice drill. “Do you need to solve your problem in the next hour?”

Liam _wanted_ to solve it in the next hour, but he rationally said, “Not really.”

“Practice with me to clear your mind. We’ll talk at breakfast.”

Gaining bruises from women at glaive practice distracted Liam enough that he acknowledged the world wasn’t ending because Sandry had asked for time to think. 

At breakfast the whole story tumbled out of Liam under the sympathetic but troubled gaze of his mother. 

Liam was extrapolating on the tapestry Sandry had gifted him when Thayet softly interrupted, “Liam, your father found a daughter of a Scanran warlord for you to marry.”

“What? No.”

“We didn’t want to tell you on your birthday. Her name is Margit.”

“No,” Liam said firmly, desperately. “I told him I wouldn’t marry.”

“I’m sorry,” Thayet said. Liam believed her apology, and it made him angrier.

“No,” he repeated. “I’m going to apologize to Sandry and bring her to meet you both. You’ll love her. Even Lianne likes her, and Lianne doesn’t like anyone.”

“You should apologize,” Thayet agreed. 

“Tell Dad I’m going to bring Sandry here,” Liam said, ignoring the returning sense that his world was falling apart. 

* * *

_ XV. April 467 H.E. _

Briar opened the door when Liam knocked on it a few hours after his breakfast with Thayet.

“Your Highness,” Briar said, repeating Sandry’s greeting. Briar’s posture was different than Sandry’s had been. He leaned idly against the door frame, casually viewing Liam with cutting disinterest, his green eyes cold. Liam feared he had lost not only Sandry, but also his friendship with her siblings due to his lies. 

“Thank you for the tapestry.”

Silent, Briar folded his arms.

“I have something for you,” Liam said. 

Briar sneered. “You’re like any other moneybags, thinking shiny gifts can fix everything.”

“And here I was hoping you would appreciate the jewels from the treasury I stole for you.” More sincerely, Liam added, “I have the desserts I promised, and will you accept my apology?”

Though he didn’t smile, Briar’s expression lightened. “Don’t worry about me. I’m counting on Sandry yelling at you for me.”

“She already did,” Liam said.

Briar smiled evilly. “You shouldn’t have left her alone. The spare time made her angrier. Don’t worry. She isn’t planning on killing you. We don’t want to run from yet another country.”

“Right. She’ll just tie me up with my own clothing.”

Briar finally stepped away from the door to gesture Liam in. “We warned you that Sandry is the scariest. She’s in her room.”

Resigned to being cocooned in his clothing, Liam walked up to Sandry’s workroom, where he could hear her weaving contraption aggressively clanking. 

Sandry paused when Liam entered the room. 

“I’m sorry,” Liam said.“I know hiding that I’m a prince hurt you. I’m not going to lie anymore.”

“I haven’t decided whether you’re worth forgiving,” Sandry snapped. 

Liam walked closer to Sandry. “Please forgive me, Sandry. I want you to meet my parents.” 

Taught with anger, Sandry shrugged. “Why would I want to meet the people who raised such a liar?”

“Sandry.” 

She deflated, putting her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sure your parents are lovely.”

Liam sat down next to Sandry, carefully leaving an unnatural space between them. Reaching into his bag, Liam found the items Thayet had given him. “I thought you would like these.” 

He withdrew the cloth and placed it in Sandry’s hands. “It’s only a headscarf, but it’s embroidered with K’miri designs. My mother is half K’miri and I speak the language, which I told you. Ask me anything, Sandry, and I’ll answer you truthfully.”

Sandry stayed silent, but she examined the headscarf. It gave Liam enough hope to give her the fan. “This is a Yamani fan. Careful, it has a hidden blade. Yamani women use them to defend themselves. You can see the Yamani silk in it too. My sister-in-law is Yamani, so my niece is half Yamani. Aunt Buri is already trying to teach Lianokami how to hold a knife, but only when my parents aren’t around because they would yell at Buri.”

Liam placed his last gift in Sandry’s full hands. “This isn’t embroidery or cloth. It’s a Yamani hairpin that’s also a blade. Yukimi of Queenscove threatened me with it a few years ago because I was arguing with her husband, who was my knight-master. Neal is a very argumentative person, but I was actually being an idiot, which I thought you would appreciate.”

Liam remembered arguing with Neal about the practicality of glaives, although neither of them were particularly knowledgeable about it. Yuki had used her sharp hairpin and sharper words to threaten both of them into meeting her the next morning on the practice court so she could demonstrate how wrong they both were. The next day Liam’s chest ached as much from bruises as from his laughter at Neal and Yuki’s banter while they fought. 

When Sandry didn’t say anything for a long moment Liam chanced a look at her face. 

She was silently weeping. 

“Mithros! Sandry, you’re crying. I’m sorry. I’ll go. This was a mistake.”

The gifts clattered to the floor when Sandry clutched at Liam’s shirt. “You’re so stupid and I love you so much, which makes me so stupid,” she sobbed. 

Dumb with relief, Liam pulled Sandry into his lap.

Sandry hiccuped. “You better love me, with everything I put up with. Did you really tell your parents about me?”

“I love you. I love you so much," Liam assured her. "I told my mother. But I want you meet them and impress them because my Dad still wants me to marry someone else. But I want to marry you.”

“I’ll meet your parents, but not until tomorrow. Ask me about marriage in a few months.”

It was good enough for Liam, and better than he thought he deserved. He started the long process of making up for his mistakes by kissing the tears off Sandry’s cheeks. 

* * *

_ XVI. April 467 H.E.  _

Liam felt less foolish when Sandry, who had defied an empress, confided that she was also anxious about meeting his parents. 

One thing as dependable as the sun rising in the east, was Sandry dressing in the perfect outfit. Liam told Sandry that at the very least she could talk to Thayet about clothing. “And maybe talk to my dad about crop cycles or something else administrative.”

Primly, Sandry said, “What do you think of trade agreements concerning mules? It’s a traditional Landreg topic that would make a good impression, I think.” 

“I’ll lose my mind,” Liam said fervently. “But my father would be so pleased. I think he used to act normal, you know.” 

Sandry grinned wickedly and squeezed his hand. “Maybe you’ll be like that in a few decades.”

Liam was saved from Sandry’s further teasing by the doors to his father’s study opening. Liam hated his father’s office. It made him feel like an unruly child preparing for a certain scolding. 

Liam wanted to maintain an informal atmosphere, so he told the footman to not introduce them to his own parents. Sandry, more polite than Liam, tucked her hand into his arm so he could properly escort her instead of tugging her inside by their entwined hands. 

“Hello, Liam,” Thayet spoke first, warmly. 

“Hi,” Liam said, wishing he sounded stronger. “This is Lady Sandrilene fa Toren. She’s the former Duchess of Emelan and former Countess of Landreg, from across the Emerald Sea.”

Sandry curtsied properly, but it was the least demure curtsy Liam had ever seen. She went no further than a Duchess of Tortall would curtsy. With every confident movement, Liam fell more desperately in love with her. 

Sandry gracefully rose when Jon said, “Stand up, Lady Sandrilene. The Queen and I have so many questions for you.”

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesties.”

While pulling out a chair for Sandry, Liam peered suspiciously at his father. This was going too well. 

Thayet said, “How long have you been in Tortall, Lady Sandrilene?”

“My siblings and I have been here for two years. I’ve known Liam for about half that time.” 

Jon blinked, clearly surprised at how long Liam had known Sandry. 

“And you met Liam at the Dancing Dove?” Thayet said for Jon’s benefit as Liam had told her this two days earlier. 

“You go to the Dove?” Jon asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Liam held his gaze, “I’ve been following in my father’s footsteps. I go to the Dove, and I fell in love with a foreign noblewoman.”

Jon and Thayet frowned, making Liam’s heart sink. He grabbed Sandry’s hand and leaned forward, rudely snarling, “You married Ma because you loved her when she was just a foreign princess with nothing more than a title. Why can’t I marry Sandry? I’m not even the first son.”

“I wasn’t supposed to marry anyone else!” Jon roared, his usual kingly charisma failing. 

“Josiane of the Copper Isles!” Liam snapped. “You proposed to Aunt Alanna! Delia of Eldorne probably thought she was going to marry you too.”

Jon folded his hands and turned his thunderous expression on Sandry. “I’m glad to meet you Sandry,” he grit out, sounding the opposite.

Unfazed, Sandry nodded.

Jon calmly devastated Liam and Sandry. “Liam is betrothed to a Scanran princess named Margit. You cannot be together.”

Glaring at his father, Liam squeezed Sandry’s hand. “I said I wouldn’t marry the Scanran. I haven’t signed a betrothal contract.”

“No,” Jon said wearily. “But it is the centerpiece of a treaty that we have been working on for years. If we were to suddenly break the treaty it could mean war.”

Now Sandry gripped Liam’s hand, trying in vain to reassure them both. “Please explain the situation to us, Your Majesty.” 

It turned out the situation was more dire than Liam knew. While Scanra had been weakened when Kel had destroyed the source of the killing machines five years earlier, the resulting instability in Scanra had allowed raids to continue along the border, drawing out the war. Now, a warlord named Henrik was amassing power in Scanra. He had enough soldiers under his command to threaten the already devastated towns along the Scanran border, but he was offering marriage to his daughter, Margit, as an avenue to peace. The marriage would create opportunities for valuable trade and collaboration between the countries.

“May I discuss this with Liam, privately?” Sandry asked after Jon lay out the treaty, her tone so imperial that the King and Queen of Tortall nodded and left their own office at the request of a foreigner. 

Once the door closed, Sandry took a deep breath, tremulous for the first time since they had entered the room. “When you told me your father wanted you to marry someone else, I didn’t realize the fate of Tortall depended on it.” 

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Liam murmured. 

“Keladry of Mindelan has told me about the Scanran war. It was horrible.”

“Kel? How do you know Kel?”

“Kel and Daja are very close. Kel comes by whenever she is in Corus.”

Liam was astounded. “The most incredible part of our relationship is that you didn’t find out who I was earlier.”

Sandry ignored this irrelevant comment. “Marrying Princess Margit will save lives. I couldn’t forgive either of us if we ignored that.”

“Sandry, I can’t do it.”

Tears were running down Sandry’s face, but despite her evident pain she still sobbed out, “You know it’s the right decision. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Liam cradled her against him. “Please, Sandry. Dad can rework the treaty.”

Sandry hid her tears in Liam’s shirt. “I gave up the Landreg estates because keeping them would have hurt the people who lived there. I could have stayed in Emelan and fought Franzen and Berenene, but so many people would have died. The price of being a noble, of not having to worry about our food or health or homes, is that we have to make sacrifices like this. I was lucky, because I had Briar and Daja and Tris to force me to make those decisions. Now I’m forcing us to make this one.”

They sat in the chair, unable to say goodbye, until Sandry, on the edge of a sob, said, “I need to leave. I’m so sorry. I love you.” She ran out. 

Jon found Liam weeping into his hands. 

“Sandry said that she can’t be with me if it means innocent people lose their lives,” Liam said gruffly, only because he wanted his father to understand how special Sandry was, how much Liam had lost.

Jon leaned on his desk, looking older than Liam had ever seen him, even during the height of the Scanran war. “She’s right. I'm sorry”

Liam was tired of apologies. Uncontrollable bitterness coursed through him. “You don’t understand. You got your princess.”

“You can love more than one person during your life.”

Liam knew Jon was trying to comfort him, but the thought of loving anyone else made him sick.  


“I need to go.” He ran, undignified, out of the room before he said something to destroy his relationship with his father. 

Jon’s voice made him pause at the door.

“Liam, can you forgive me?” 

“Don’t ask me that,” Liam spat. Defeated, he said, “Let Lianne marry who she chooses. At least one of us should.” 

“You’re too much like me,” Jon said.

“Mithros, I hope not,” Liam shot back. “I’m going to leave Corus with the King’s Own. Tell me when I need to fetch the Princess.” 

* * *

_ XVII. May 467, H.E.  _

Liam’s month riding north with the King’s Own was an exercise in trying to make everyone feel as despairing as he did. Liam was usually a good conversationalist, someone people were drawn to. But Liam spent his time with the Own ranting about his father or describing how perfect Sandry was. Now he was the most annoying person in Tortall. 

Anxiety over his upcoming marriage to a stranger tied Liam’s stomach in knots. He lost his appetite. Most nights Liam couldn’t sleep. He would sit in the stables with the horses reading over expense reports until morning. He was more reckless than a prince could be during the skirmishes against bandits. Liam even tried to goad other members of the Own into drunken brawls, but even the drunkest man wouldn’t hit Liam of Conté. 

Decades ago the King’s Own had been the dumping ground for bad knights. It was no longer anything like that, so Sir Raoul gladly let Liam go after a month.

“You have a missive to go up north where Roald is,” Raoul said, not hiding his relief. 

“I’m finally meeting Princess Margit,” Liam translated dully. 

“Eat something before you see the Scanrans. It would be embarassing to send a scrawny prince to meet those giants.”

“I eat fine,” Liam lied.

Raoul threw a piece of bread at Liam. 

Liam continued to act like an asshole when he first arrived at the northern fort Roald commanded. But Roald was so sympathetic to Liam’s anger and misery that guilt started to weigh on Liam. He had selfishly unloaded all his troubles on his busy older brother. 

“Would you have made the same decision if you were king?” Liam asked Roald after a week of acting like a bear with a thorn in its paw. 

“Yes,” Roald said steadily. “I want Lianokami to inherit a peaceful kingdom so she focus on building universities instead of armies.”

Out of all the explanations people had given Liam, this answer made sense to Liam. Love drew him to Sandry, but it was also love that made Roald want to keep the kingdom safe for Lianokami. 

Liam walked away to go find the practice yard so he could shoot arrows into targets until he was numb. 

Liam had been a knight for only a few years and already failed his parents, Tortall, and a princess he hadn’t even met yet because he wanted to put his own happiness above the safety of other people. How could Liam look at a limping soldier or poor widow and not leap at the chance to officially end the war? How could Liam be angry at his father for wanting Roald to inherit a peaceful kingdom? 

At dinner that night Liam sat next to Roald and said quietly, “In your next letter, tell Dad I forgive him.”

“I will.” Even more solemn than usual, Roald said, “You’re anger is forgivable, Liam. I can’t imagine loving Shinko and not being able to marry her.”

Liam took a few breaths to stop himself from crying in the main hall during a crowded dinner. “It’s bloody horrible.”

Roald squeezed Liam’s arm sympathetically. “Are you alright with meeting Princess Margit at the border and escorting her to Corus in two weeks? You could rejoin the Own and avoid meeting her for at least a month.”

“No,” Liam decided miserably. “It can’t be put off anymore.” 


	4. Chapter 4

_ XVIII. June 467 H.E.  _

Liam rode out to meet his bride with a squadron of Roald’s soldiers on a blindingly sunny day two weeks later. The other soldiers were happy in the rare sunshine. Liam attempted to join their good humor, but his responses were too gloomy.

Three hours later they spotted the group of Scanran soldiers along the border river. There were far more Scanrans than Tortallans. The only hint of a princess was a small horse carrying a smaller woman in the center of the group. She was wearing a hood, so Liam couldn’t notice anything about her. 

One of Liam’s soldiers rode up next to Liam. 

“Are we fetching the Princess?”

Liam had thought the plan was for the Scanrans to cross the border and meet them. A small number of bodyguards for Princess Margit would come with her to Tortall, and the rest were supposed to stay behind. These Scanrans showed no interest in budging from their position across the river. 

“They’re likely standoffish from years of fighting us,” Liam guessed. 

“Aye,” the soldier next to him agreed. “We are too.”

“We should go over there,” Liam decided. “It’ll be a show of goodwill.”

“You’re call, Your Highness,” the soldier said, his eyes narrowed on the Scanrans. 

Liam led half of the group with him through the river crossing. The Scanrans made no move to come closer. Once across the river Liam realized that there were only men in the group. No ladies in waiting were accompanying Princess Margit. 

Liam kept his gaze focused on the small figure on the horse. This was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. 

A large Scanran was next to Margit, who hadn’t removed the hood shadowing her face. The Scanran’s giant hand was gripping Margit’s slim shoulder as he bent his head, speaking into her ear. Margit jerked away from the man. 

Margit screamed in accented Common, “LEAVE!”

The Scanran next to her hit her. 

The other Scanrans pulled out their longbows. A few men with swords galloped towards Liam. His instincts and adrenaline took control. He dug his heels into the sides of his horse, urging it to turn around. One soldier who had tried joking with him a mere hour ago fell of his horse, multiple arrows in his shoulder. A vibrating thud told Liam an arrow had landed in the shield strapped to his back. 

Shouts in Scanran and the Common Tongue filled Liam’s ears. He ignored it, focusing only on the approaching river. 

“Sweet Mithros!” Liam swore, clenching his reigns when an arrow landed in his horse’s side. “Shit!” 

Startled, his horse stumbled. It gave an enemy soldier enough time to ride up and shove Liam off the horse with the end of his spear. Liam fell heavily to the ground. 

* * *

_ XIX. June 467, H.E. _

Liam vomited off the side of the jostling wagon when he woke up.

“That’s disgusting,” a young voice snapped in accented Common.

“Sorry,” Liam grumbled.   


Liam swallowed down more bile when he realized he was handcuffed to a small wagon and surrounded by heavily armed Scanran soldiers. He had been kidnapped.

Liam tried to reach for his Gift. It was tied up with mage wards. “Shit!” He inspected his fellow occupant of the small wagon. It was a young girl, about twelve years old. “Who are you?”

“Margit.”

Liam gaped at her. “Princess Margit? How old are you, twelve?”

“Almost thirteen!” The girl folded her arms. “I’m not a princess. Idiot.”

Liam was lost. “What?” He grunted eloquently.

“I’m an orphan serving girl of Lord Henrik’s that he used as bait to kidnap you so he now can ransom you back to your father,” the girl whispered furiously, a wary glance at the surrounding, heavily armed Scanrans. “There is no Princess Margit.”

Liam's mind scrambled to make sense of Margit's matter-of-fact statement. As Lianne would bluntly say, Liam was in a shit situation. Lord Henrik's plotting had gifted the Scanrans a prince of Tortall. Threatening Liam would give Henrik valuable leverage over King Jon. The Tortallans were unprepared for drawn out war because they had been tricked into thinking peace was on the horizon. Since the attempted coup at Jon's coronation, the Immortal’s War, and Scanran War, Tortall was more precarious than it had been in generations. If Scanra had a decent sized army, they had a chance of claiming countless miles of territory along the border. Liam could do nothing about the upcoming crisis except stare at the child in front of him. 

“How do you know all this?”

Margit sneered. “Have you ever watched what you said around serving girls, Your Most Magnificent Magesticness?”

Cowed, Liam shook his head. He hadn’t.

Liam had been partly raised by Buri and Alanna. Margit was the angriest person he had ever met. She had sharp, uncomplimentary opinions on everything in Scanra, specifically the warlord Henrik and Scanran food, which she described as mostly boiled turnips. 

“Do you know where they’re taking us?” Liam asked. Margit was an excessive, but valuable source of information. Liam just needed to direct her from gossip about cheating Ragnar and gambling Lars to the information Liam found more useful.

Margit chewed on a dirty fingernail. “To the camp a days ride out. Henrik is amassing an army. I’ll be joining you in a dungeon since I tried to warn you to leave.”

“Why did you warn us?” 

Margit shrugged. “I was mad at the commander. He’s rude. All the army commanders are.” 

Liam swore again, not feeling guilty about doing it in front of a child. The girl likely knew more dirty words than he did. “Hasn’t Scanra seen enough fighting?”

Margit also had lots of cutting opinions about this. But she was correct about their destination. In the late afternoon Liam, Margit, and a few stale pieces of bread were thrown into a makeshift dungeon in the center of an enormous Scanran army camp. 

* * *

_ XX. June, 467, H.E. _

Sandry was miserable. She had been for two months now, since she had left the Palace crying over Liam’s certain marriage to Princess Margit. Curling over intricate embroidery for hours was the only action that kept Sandry from leaping on a horse and conquering Scanra so that she could see Liam again. 

Sprinting into the room, Briar interrupted Sandry’s worn thoughts. “Pack up,” he panted. “We’re going north.”

Briar opened his mind to Sandry, pushing thoughts at her faster than he could voice them. 

Daja had heard that Liam had been kidnapped at the border by Scanrans. Tris had already found horses. Briar was fetching Sandry and the belongings they needed to bring.

Sandry mentally opened up her fury to all of them. “How could you wait an hour to tell me?” She raged. “We could be packed and on the road by now!”

“Don't be foolish. You would have set off without us,” Briar said. “You would be barefoot on the road right now if we told you when Daja found out. We needed to arrange everything. Liam is our friend too.”

Briar was right so Sandry stomped out and into their rooms. Each of the siblings had a travel bag already packed in case they needed to leave quickly, a holdover from the fear instilled in them after fleeing Emelan in the night. In minutes Sandry was ready to go. 

Briar spoke mentally.

_We don’t know how to find Liam,_ Briar thought. _We’re relying on the gossip Daja heard and Tris’s scrying. Of course the King’s Own and the Queen’s Riders are searching too, but the four of us are faster. And we have our magic._

_I can find him._

Sandry sent an image to Briar of the runes she had embroidered on the gloves and cape she had given to Liam. Sandry had started embroidering finding runes into clothing after Pasco lost every single piece of dancing clothing she had gifted him. Sandry only needed to focus on the magical threads connecting her to her work to find where her gifts were. 

_Daja can probably do the same_ , Sandry mused, thinking of the fateful shield Daja had created. 

_Thank the gods for birthday presents,_ Briar thought wryly. 

Sandry mentally tallied up offerings to every god she knew of while they rode north. She was grateful Uncle Vedris had insisted the four of them be strong riders. Even luckier, the weather held so the four of them made excellent time by switching horses at the inns along the way and camping for a few hours every night. It was exhausting, but all of them were desperate with worry for Liam. Every day Sandry checked the magical connection that led north. She examined maps, and grew convinced that her magic was leading her to Liam. Tris insisted it wasn’t a sure thing. Liam could have lost his gloves or dropped his cape somewhere. 

“My gifts are in Scanra,” Sandry would repeat to Tris, insistent in both her mind and out loud. “At the very least my magic will lead us to wind that you can see something useful on, or even horse markings we can track.”

They didn’t have any other clues to go on besides the gossip at inns, so they followed Sandry. 

When they finally, after a few long weeks of travel, reached the river that split Scanra and Tortall, Tris saw an army on the wind. 

“In what direction?” Sandry demanded, her nerves making her horse jumpy. 

Tris pointed north-east. 

Sandry nodded decisively. “That’s where my magic is leading me. Let’s go.”

They followed Tris and Sandry’s increasingly clear directions across rugged, barren terrain until Tris told them to stop. 

“If we go any further the army scouts will find us. We need to rest and make a plan.”

Sandry vocally denied the need for either sleep or a plan. After many minutes of yelling at each other Sandry petulantly sat down and cried. 

“I want to see him,” she sobbed. “I want to make sure he’s alright, that he’s not . . . ” Sandry choked on her words, but they understood her meaning. 

Daja crouched down and hugged her. “Liam is a prince of Tortall, _saati._ They won’t kill him.”

Briar nodded. “He’s no use to them dead.”

A few minutes of heavy sobbing later, Sandry pulled herself together. “At night I should sneak in and pretend to be a serving girl and find Liam. Once I find him we’ll destroy the Scanran army.”

Briar snorted. “Destroy the Scanran army. You can’t do things half way, can you Duchess?”

“We can do it,” Sandry defended.

Bickering ensued, but it resulted in the agreement that the four of them could cripple the Scanran army without hurting already suffering and starving regular soldiers too much. They also decided they needed to find Lord Henrik to make sure he wouldn't cause more trouble. Briar would accompany Sandry when she went for Liam to find Henrik. Daja and Tris would stay outside the camp and keep watch. 

They took turns napping until just before sunset. Tris forced them all to eat some of the rations they still had left before Briar and Sandry sneaked into camp, the dim light providing cover to the pair without crippling them in darkness.

Sandry had never seen a true army before. It was significantly less grand than she had expected. Everything was dirty. Drunken men were everywhere. The disorganization was helpful though, allowing Briar and Sandry to walk into camp without anyone stopping them. Probably, the soldiers thought Sandry was a servant coming back from an evening tumble with a soldier. 

Sensing her thoughts, Briar mentally said, _War isn’t grand._

Sandry knew Briar was remembering Yanjing. She sent him a burst of sympathy to soften her snappy, _I know!_

Soldiers were guarding the tent Sandry led them too. One of the soldiers approached Sandry and Briar. Briar pressed a dagger against the soldier’s stomach. The soldier stood there, frozen and silent.

Sandry ran into the tent before the plan completely fell apart. There was a lone soldier who Sandry magically gagged with thread and cocooned in his clothing. She tore away a canvas wall separation and saw two figures chained on the dirt floor. One was Liam, the other a young girl.

Trembling, Sandry jumped into Liam’s arms, sobbing onto his shoulder. He was there. He was real. Even in the center of an enemy army touching Liam made Sandry feel safe and invincible. 

“I missed you so much,” she cried, clinging to him. “I’m never letting go now. I’m never doing the right thing ever again.”

Liam murmured into Sandry’s ear. “I missed you. I missed your smile. I missed your lips, your eyes, your insults, your hair.”

They stayed like until a small rock landed on Liam.

Liam gently lifted Sandry off of him, but clutched her close to him so she was nestled against his chest. They faced the angry child who had thrown the pebble.

“This is Margit,” Liam explained. 

“You were supposed to marry her?” Sandry asked doubtfully, very confused. “She looks very young and she’s in a dungeon.”

“She’s actually a Scanran orphan Henrik found to use as bait in the kidnapping,” Liam explained.

“But I want to go to Corus,” Margit interjected strongly. “I have no family and I hate Scanra.” 

Liam gestured at Margit, murmuring quietly to Sandry though she was sure Margit could hear, “I’m a knight, and she’s a damsel in distress. We have to take care of her.”

Sandry agreed with him. She was hardly going to leave the girl here. Still Sandry retorted, “I’m saving you. _You’re_ the damsel in distress.”

Liam kissed her. 

Margit announced, “Now I know why you didn’t want to marry me.”

“You’re twelve,” Liam said.

“Almost thirteen!”

“She doesn’t actually want to marry you?” Sandry asked anxiously.

“No. She wants to get out of Scanra.”

Sandry studied Margit for a moment. The girl avoided her gaze. “She has a crush on you,” Sandry whispered. 

Liam grimaced. “Don’t tease, Sandry. I was just _kidnapped_. I’m in a delicate state.”

“Ridiculous state, more like,” Briar yelled, rushing in. “Stop flirting. We need to go!”

“They’re chained,” Sandry said. “What do we do?”

Briar drew Sandry behind him and crouched between Liam and Margit. “Liam distracts you,” he hissed. “Ask Daja to open the locks.”

Together, Sandry and Briar mentally screamed for Daja to reach with her magic and manipulate the locks.

_Give me a moment!_ Daja thought. 

Moments later the locks sprung open. Shocked, Liam lifted his free hands. “How?”

Sandry meant to say they would explain later, but soldiers invaded the tent. 

“Cat dirt,” Sandry muttered, one hand reaching for Briar, her other hand already clutching Liam.


	5. Chapter 5

  


_ XXI. June 467 H.E.  _

  


_Destroying the Scanran army is starting early_ , Briar thought to his sisters.

Sandry magically felt Tris and Daja hold hands from where they were hidden a mile away from the army. Sandry focused on the masses of thread in the army. Sweat rolling down her cheek, Sandry cocooned the soldiers in the tent, then moved on to the soldiers outside, using the canvas tents to help her wrap soldiers up in thread. 

Sandry felt Briar reaching to both his _shaakan_ ’s power, which was in his saddle bag, and to the grass trampled beneath the army camp. He breathed new life into the grass and encouraged it to climb up the legs of the soldiers who Sandry wasn’t cocooning, plaiting them into the long grass so they couldn’t move. Daja burst the nails out of everything in the camp, from wagons to kegs of ale. All the weapons instantly dulled. Every soldier wearing armor or chain mail found it becoming so stiff that they couldn’t move. Tris watched the soldiers who ran away from the destroyed campsite. These soldiers sank into mud that appeared around them. 

When they were done, Briar and Sandry sank onto the ground, dizzy from the exertion. 

Margit was in the opening of the tent, standing above the soldiers at her feet. She was exclaiming Scanran words that Sandry guessed were swears.

“How long was that?” Sandry asked Liam, who was by her side, bringing a dirty cup of water to her lips. She dutifully took a sip. 

Offering the water to Briar, Liam answered, “An hour. That was incredible.” 

Liam joked that Sandry was scary, but she knew he wasn’t scared of her. He respected and loved all of her, including her magic. It made all the difference to Sandry that she could perform any magic and Liam’s reaction remained the same whether it was pretty embroidery or tying up an army. Liam always looked at her with a quirk to his lips that promised he would show Sandry how amazing he thought she was when they were alone. That look was too distracting when Sandry still had magic to concentrate on.

Sandry, leaning on Liam, attempted to stand up and bring Briar up with her. It took several minutes to power through the nausea. 

“We need to find Lord Henrik,” Sandry said. “He’s our leverage now.”

“I’ll help,” Margit said. “I know what he looks like.”

With Margit’s help looking for Henrik, and Liam’s help supporting Sandry and Briar, they found Henrik in half an hour. He was wrapped in both his own clothing and the grass Briar had called up. To spare Briar, Liam used his magic, now that the anti-mage runes etched into his shackles were gone, to burn through the grass. With another of Liam’s spells, Henrik’s conscious but gagged body floated silently behind them as the weary group trudged back to Daja and Tris’s camp. Margit offered her amusing opinions on the whole situation. 

Tris and Daja made them drink tea from Briar’s mage kit when they collapsed into the clearing by their tent. It blessedly made Sandry’s headache lighten. She was no longer convinced she was about to collapse into the ground. 

Liam set his tea on the ground. “How did you find us?’

Sandry tugged on Liam’s cloak, the only clean and unwrinkled part of his clothing. “I tracked this.”

“That’s brilliant!”

Sandry smiled proudly.

“How did you get Daja to release the chains?” Liam asked next. Sandry regrettably knew Liam wouldn’t forget a mystery like that. 

With a wary glance at Margit, Sandry said, “We can mind-speak to each other, because of the magical accident that bonded our magic.”

“Can I be angry you didn’t tell me earlier?”

“Yes. But it’s like speaking.”

“No,” Liam disagreed, frowning. “It’s not. But I’m more mature now that I’ve spent time on the border and been kidnapped, so I’ll argue about that later. When I’m not so tired.”

“We’re scheduling arguments now?” Sandry exclaimed, too baffled for proper anger.

“Please do,” Tris groaned, head in hands. “My headache is pounding too much for you to have a loud argument. Everyone go to bed. We’ll ride out tomorrow morning.”

  


* * *

_ XXII. June, 467 H.E. _

  


Sandry shook Liam awake that morning. “We’re leaving. Tris sees riders on the wind. Daja and Briar are finding extra horses in the camp right now.”

Liam groaned. “Tell me what the riders look like. They could be Tortallans.”

Sandry described what Tris was seeing. 

“Those are the Queen’s Riders,” Liam said firmly. “We should meet them so they aren’t going around the countryside wasting their time trying to save me when you’re already here.”

Sandry chewed on her lip, exchanging a glance with Tris, who was in the tent shoving belongings in saddlebags. Now that Liam knew they could actually read each other’s minds all their mysterious looks and coordinated actions made much more sense.

“We’ll stay,” Sandry finally agreed. 

When Liam crawled out of his sleeping bag, he made a blue, magical flare to draw the Riders to them. An hour later, Liam was eating porridge as if it were the finest meal on earth, when the Queen’s Riders group approached them carefully, bows drawn. When they could see his movement, Liam made the hand sign for safe. The arrows remained pointed squarely at the others, but a lone woman rode out close to them. It was Liam’s Aunt Buri.

“You left retirement for me?” Liam asked, delighted to see her. 

Yes,” Buri said, surveying them. “Now this is a pretty lame kidnapping operation.” 

Unconcerned about the ready weapons aimed at him, Briar called out, “It’s a decent rescue mission, though.”

Liam made eye contact with Buri and nodded, again forming the hand signal that he was safe. Buri, now galloping to him, signaled for the Riders to stand down. She flung herself out of the saddle to hug Liam, babbling fast in K’miri. 

After a last, rattling shake of Liam’s shoulders Buri spoke in Common. “Tell me what happened.”

Liam did so. He ended by saying, “If you look over the hill you’ll see the crippled Scanran army.”

“We saw it when we rode here,” Buri said, looking at Sandry and her siblings with interest. “That’s handy, useful work.” 

“Forget about it. We don’t do war magic,” Tris growled.

Liam knew Buri was going to point out that the siblings already had done war magic, so he loudly said, “Buri, can we travel back to Corus with you?”

Buri frowned. “Whether you want to or not, Liam. I’m not letting you out of my sight until I give you back to your mother.”

“You’ll even watch me while I piss?” Liam asked cheekily. Teasing Aunt Buri had always been Liam’s favorite pastime. 

“Being kidnapped did not improve your attitude,” Buri growled, affection hidden deep in her tone. “Pack up. If we ride hard we can make it to Roald’s fort by nightfall.”

  


* * *

_ XXIII. June 467, H.E. _

  


In the Corus Palace, Baron George of Pirate’s Swoop entered the King’s study. The King had been notoriously, and understandably, bad-tempered since Liam had been kidnapped, so George dove in with the good news before Jon even looked up. 

“Liam is safe. The lad is with Roald and Buri.”

Jon jumped out of his seat, striding to George in an instant. He gripped George’s shoulders. “He’s safe?”

“Yes,” George repeated. “Safe. Healthier than we expected even. Sit down, Jon. I’ve sent someone to get Thayet.”

Jon hugged George, repeating, “he’s safe.”

When Thayet entered, George turned away from the intimate scene of Thayet breaking down sobbing in Jon’s arms. When Thayet, still crying, hugged George too, he ushered Thayet and Jon into chairs. 

George blamed himself for Liam’s kidnapping. He had been focusing so much on the Copper Isles that he had not even heard a whisper or a hint that the Scanrans were planning something. Delivering the news of Liam’s safety made George’s guilt lessen, even if he had contributed nothing to the mind-blowing rescue. 

“Liam is safe,” George repeated. “Roald sent word.”

“Good,” Thayet said, tears still in her eyes as she leaned against her husband. “How did it happen?” 

George started at the beginning of Roald’s story. “Roald said that the supposed Princess Margit is actually a twelve-year old orphaned serving girl who was used to trick us. Henrik has been amassing an army to invade Tortall with, and was going to use Liam as added leverage. Margit escaped the Scanrans with Liam, and is now at the fort with them.”

“Well," Jon massaged his temple, "that obviously changes things. How did they escape?"

Normally George would have said that he was getting there, but he knew how wounding a disappeared child was, so he swallowed his usual retort. “Apparently four mages tracked Liam down and saved Liam and Margit from the Scanran army camp. They also captured the warlord Henrik. The Scanrans won’t be causing us anymore trouble.”

“Four mages?” Jon asked. “Who? Numair, Daine, and Alanna are here. Who else could have done it?”

This was also the part George was having trouble understanding. “Roald said it was Liam’s beau, the Lady Sandrilene, and her three siblings.”

“What?” Jon said. “Lady Sandrilene is a stitch witch. That’s what Liam told Thayet.”

George cleared his throat. “Buri saw the Scanran army. She said they were wrapped in thread and grass. She also ordered us to hire the mages before someone else does.”

Jon reached a decision quickly. “I’m going north. I need to see my son and figure out what the hell is going on in my kingdom.”

“I’m coming with you,” Thayet said. 

George opened his mouth to argue that Jon, Thayet, and Roald couldn’t all be gone from Corus, but Jon silenced him.

“You’re here. Alanna is here. Gary is here. Shinkokami is here. Tortall will survive for a few weeks while we fetch our son. Especially as the Scanran army is apparently _gone_.”

George cleared his throat.

“ _Yes_?” Jon asked, already impatient.

“Let Liam marry this girl,” George said, exposing his inner romantic sensibilities. 

“As long as he's safe, Liam can marry a damn stormwing for all I care,” Jon said. He left the room, tugging Thayet along with him. 

  


* * *

_ XXIV. July 467, H.E. _

  


Briar was teaching Sandry, Liam, Daja, Tris, and Margit a card game outside Liam’s tent during the late afternoon when a murmur spread through camp that the King and Queen were approaching on horseback.

“I wonder who they’re here for,” Briar remarked dryly. 

“Deal two extra hands, Briar,” Liam said. “They’re obviously here to play cards with you.” 

Chuckling, Briar threw the deck at Liam. The cards scattered around the blanket they were sitting on. 

After they all picked the cards up, Sandry ordered Liam to see his parents. 

Liam, already standing, paused to kiss Sandry. It had been almost three weeks of traveling since Liam had escaped Scanra, and still Liam couldn’t keep himself away from Sandry. Even the Queen’s Riders found the salacious gossip surrounding the prince and his foreign mage old news by now.

“Stop trying to get rid of me,” Liam murmured against Sandry’s lips.

Giggling, Sandry pushed him away. “Go see your parents!”

“Please do,” someone said behind Liam. He turned around to see his mother on his father’s arm, the rest of the camp gaping at them.

Liam threw himself at them. His parents fussed over Liam. He welcomed it after the past months of anger and fear. Liam had never before seen his parents teary-eyed, so to escape the prying looks of the Riders, Liam ushered them into his comfortable canvas pole-tent. 

Thayet noticed Liam’s shield propped up on a chair. “You still have this?”

“Daja found it,” Liam confirmed. 

Thayet hid a sniffle in her sleeve.

Liam noticed his father looking at a folded dress on the camp table in the room. It was Sandry’s, and not the only clue that Sandry and Liam were sharing a tent. A pair of woman’s boots were at the entrance, and Sandry’s embroidery was next to Liam’s chain mail. Liam refused to blush. He was an adult. 

“George told me to let you marry Sandry,” Jon said, looking away from the dress. “I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“Gods yes,” Liam said, rubbing his face. “If she’ll have me. I keep asking her to elope and she says no.” 

“Oh,” Thayet said, drawing her delicate eyebrows together in concern. 

“Don’t worry, Ma. Sandry said it’s because she wants time to design a wedding dress with you,” Liam said, faithfully relaying the reason Sandry had again refused eloping at Roald’s fort. 

Thayet embraced him tearfully. “That is _wonderful_ news, Liam.”

Once Jon and Thayet were assured that Liam was healthy and happy, Liam spent several hours astonishing them with the story of his capture and escape. As the afternoon turned into evening, they all left the tent to have dinner with the Riders, who were less boisterous than usual in the presence of the King and Queen. After dinner, Jon and Thayet drew Sandry and her siblings aside with the excuse of thanking of them, but with the obvious subtext of asking them a multitude of questions. Liam didn’t follow them. He knew that the siblings could hold their own.

Later that night, voices disturbed Liam from falling asleep in the tent he shared with Sandry. 

He heard the murmurs of Thayet, Jon, and Sandry approaching. 

“I am sorry our first meeting was not under better circumstances,” Jon said. Liam hoped Sandry appreciated the rare royal apology.

She didn’t, instead saying, “There’s no need to apologize.”

“There is. I could have been more courteous to the woman my son loves.”

“Your son is the love of my life, but I also know what it’s like to rule people who depend on you. There is no need to apologize to me because you were trying to keep your kingdom safe.” After a beat of comfortable silence, Sandry said, “I think we will have lots of interesting stories to tell each other.”

Liam could hear the amusement in his father’s voice. “Yes, I hope so.”

Thayet said imperially, “The stories can wait. Do go to bed, Lady Sandry. We’re traveling in the morning.”

Liam was certain there was no one Sandry wouldn’t dare to tease when she added a laughing twist to, “As you command, Your Majesty.” 

Liam remained silent as Sandry entered the tent and prepared for bed. When she slid next to him in the sleeping bag he whispered, “So I’m the love of your life?”

Sandry nestled against him. “Not if you don’t let me sleep.”

Liam teased a hand under Sandry’s chemise. “Am I the love of your life? I’ll keep you up until you answer me.”

Sandry turned around and engaged Liam in a hard, biting kiss. “Yes. Now go to bed.”

Liam fell asleep smiling into Sandry’s shoulder. 

The next day the squad of the King’s Own who had escorted Thayet and Jon combined with the Riders group to bring everyone back to Corus. In the center of the group, Jon and Liam rode together, gingerly trying to mend their relationship. Though Liam had forgiven his father, the previous time they had seen each other Liam had been crying and raging. Jon blamed himself for Liam’s kidnapping. Thayet, knowing they needed to wade through the messy emotions, had left them alone to spend time with Buri.

After an hour of deep thought, Jon asked, “Do you like being a knight?”

Liam was surprised by the question. He had always known he would be a knight. “It’s my duty. I enjoy it enough to keep doing it until I find something as useful I enjoy more.”

“I’ve been thinking that you would make a good traveling diplomat. If you would like that. You’ve always been good at entertaining ambassadors at Court. You’re good with people and languages. I think you would enjoy the travel,” Jon explained, revealing that he had put heavy consideration into the idea. “And I want someone to visit Kally in Carthak besides the overly stoic lord we have there now. Perhaps later you can go to the Copper Isles as an expression of our goodwill.”

The plan made perfect sense to Liam. His favorite part of being a knight had always been traveling and meeting people. “I think I would like that.”

“What would Sandry think?” Jon asked. “If she were Tortallan I would make her a diplomat in a second. It would be useful to have an ambassador who could charm the Tyran king while wrapping him in a cage of silk.” 

Liam secretly treasured every time Jon approvingly mentioned Sandry. 

“Let’s ask her.” Liam spotted Sandry in the dense group and yelled, “Sandry!” He waved her over.

Sandry skillfully guided her horse to them.

“Would you enjoy being the charming partner to an equally charming traveling diplomat?” Liam asked her.

Sandry made a face at him, urging Liam to explain the situation.

“Yes!” She squealed. “You should do it! You would be so wonderful and I want to examine how they make Carthaki silk. And did you know each island in the Copper Isles has a distinctive embroidery style?” 

Liam nodded back at his pleased father. “We’ll do it.” 

  


* * *

_ XXV. August, 467, H.E. _

  


Daja thought their presentation at Court was chaotic, but judging from Liam’s resigned posture, this was common for the Tortallan Court.

The affair began normally.

Sandry had dressed Briar, Daja, Tris, Liam and herself in the finest clothing Sandry could make, which meant it was the most gorgeous display of style anyone at the Tortall Court had seen, judging from their awestruck expressions. Sandry was pleased to have impressed the fashionable Court. 

Of course, Daja noted, there were many possible explanations for the shock the nobles displayed. Surprise certainly spread through the room after Sandry was introduced at the former Duchess of Emelan and former Countess of Landreg, from across the Emerald sea, and even more so when Liam happily announced their engagement. 

The awe evident in the room could even have been caused from the introduction of Daja, Tris, and Briar. Foreign mages weren’t common, and rumors were already spreading about the defeat of the Scanran army the month before. 

Daja, Briar, Tris, Liam, and Sandry sat with Liam’s family and family friends during the feast. Daja had met Prince Roald at the northern fort, and she found Prince Jasson and Princess Vania equally, if more exuberantly, charming. 

Daja thought Sir Alanna of Pirate’s Swoop was her favorite person at court. Daja had reached this conclusion with quite a lot of hero worship. She had been hearing about Sir Alanna since she first started working in the palace forge. Her opinion only grew stronger when Sir Alanna engaged Daja in a wonderful discussion about forging techniques for swords.

Daja laughed when she saw Briar and Baron George conspiring. They were too similar for their conversation to mean anything but trouble. Liam had confided that his Uncle George was head of Tortall’s spy network and wanted to recruit Liam once was he was traveling to other countries.

Also at the table with Daja and her siblings was the giant Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak with Commander Buri. Sir Raoul and Buri had an excellent repertoire of hilarious stories, but Raoul looked too cheerful about the prospect of the Scanrans finding new tricks. Daja supposed giants had to amuse themselves somehow. Later, Daja’s opinion of Sir Raoul as kind and funny, but odd, was solidified when she discovered him hiding behind a curtain with Sir Alanna and Buri. Sir Alanna put a finger over her lips so Daja didn’t disturb them, but Daja laughed when Sir Nealan and his beautiful wife found them and scolded them for hiding.

The curtains proved useful when stoic Kel dared a chaste kiss with Daja later that evening. Kel and Daja had enjoyed a casual relationship since they had chanced a spar against each other almost a year ago. Daja’s Trader staff against Kel’s Yamani glaive had ended in a fun romp in Kel’s rooms. The relationship suited them both, especially now that Kel was spending more time in Corus because Sir Raoul was preparing to retire. 

Tris, Daja noticed, was caught up in an academic discussion about different types of magic with Master Numair Salmalin, who Daja found endearing. When Tris and Numair started discussing magical walls, Daja suspected Tris might accompany Numair north in the coming months to do something about the Scanran border. 

As the full evening wound down, Sandry caught Daja’s eye and smiled widely, gesturing Daja towards her. 

“I wish Uncle Vedris was here,” Sandry said, briefly leaning her head on Daja’s shoulder while her hand was around Liam’s arm. 

Liam had reformed from his lying mistakes to devote himself fully to Sandry’s happiness. All Daja had heard for weeks was how much fun Sandry was having planning a wedding with Thayet, and how excited Sandry was to travel to Carthak and the Copper Isles afterwards. Margit, who everyday offered a new opinion on Corus, was also looking forward to traveling with them as a serving girl.

Daja looked over the room, taking note of her joyful siblings. “Duke Vedris would be happy for you,” Daja said, knowing it was true. 

“For us,” Sandry decided. 

Daja believed Tortall had been quite good for her family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been on a Tamora Pierce binge and this is what came of it. This story is literally just an excuse to throw all my favorite characters together. I hope you enjoyed, and pls lmk what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> This is fic is finished. There's five chapters and I'm going to post one every day. I hope you enjoy!


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